


What Could Be

by Sincestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Underage, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform, alternate life, but i think it works ok as a what if sort of drabble, i wrote this for an ending to something, nothing overly graphic, now i can't remember what, or why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 05:11:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8150233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincestiel/pseuds/Sincestiel
Summary: Then Sam starts talking about college.  As if it’s something they can do in their line of work.  And, for a while, Dean humors him.  But the humoring only lasts for a little while.  Because when Sam sits down to research colleges, Dean’s right beside him, checking out the towns and the repair shops and looking into rent costs.  If Sam’s leaving, and it seems like he really is, Dean is too.  End of story.





	

**Author's Note:**

> More stuff from the depths of my hard drive. And this might be it for a few days. I found a multiple chapter AU I was working on and I think I want to finish that. So these little ones might have to wait.
> 
> Idk what this is. It was supposed to be an ending for something that never got written or got deleted. Who knows. Take it as a stand alone what if piece. What if Dean gave in to his desire for Sam when they were younger? What if Dean didn't allow Sam to leave alone when he went to Stanford? 
> 
> Customary tumblr plug: Hey, if you wanna follow me on [tumblr](http://sincestiel.tumblr.com/) that would be alright. I don't post much there yet, but I'm considering taking prompts. But that just depends on if anyone is interested. Shoot me an [ask](http://sincestiel.tumblr.com/ask) if you have a prompt and we'll see what happens. :)

Ten minutes after it happens for the first time, Sam is sound asleep on the couch and Dean is sitting in the little bathroom staring at his hand in disgusted awe. _Protect Sammy_ has been his mantra, his reason for living, since he carried his baby brother from that little house in Kansas what feels like lifetimes ago. And now. Now.

Now he’s fucked up; that’s what he’s done. The light above him flickers, casting an eerie florescent glow over the hand hovering in front of his face and he can still feel the heat of his brother’s cock in his palm. The splash of come over his wrist. And his stomach twists violently, because he knows it won’t be the last time.

And it’s not. Not by a long shot.

But by the time Sam grows into his gangly limbs, kind of anyway, Dean’s pretty much over it. Not over Sam. Never that. Sam is still his little brother and Dean wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s also still so beautiful that he sometimes takes Dean’s breath. And Dean still touches. Frequently. Bad touches his little brother, who has out grown him by at least an inch, all over the place. But the guilt? That’s a thing of the past. They are who they are and he’s okay with that. Likes Sam just like he is. Loves him fiercely.

Then Sam starts talking about college. As if it’s something they can do in their line of work. And, for a while, Dean humors him. But the humoring only lasts for a little while. Because when Sam sits down to research colleges, Dean’s right beside him, checking out the towns and the repair shops and looking into rent costs. If Sam’s leaving, and it seems like he really is, Dean is too. End of story.

Besides, he doesn’t know how much longer their father will content himself with those knowing looks and condescending glares. Like he has any right to judge. Like he didn’t set them on this path years ago. Like it isn’t all his fault.

Fault. And Dean reconsiders that because he doesn’t feel like this, what he has with Sammy, is anything that deserves blame at all. Maybe he should be thanking his old man. _Seriously, pops. You don’t even know how fucking fantastic he is on his knees. Or how goddamn gorgeous he is when he comes._ And sometimes Dean considers it. Honest to God thinks about just putting it out there. He knows anyway. Dean’s sure of that. So why not?

But he keeps up the pretense, and in the wee hours of the morning, when John’s sleeping off another bender or off hunting this ghoul or that goblin (Dean talks his way out of it as often as he can), they search and search. And finally, Sam starts filling out applications while Dean plans their escape.

They’re getting out of the life. Maybe not all the way. But farther out than John has ever intended. And Dean couldn’t be more relieved. Sam’s bigger than this. Needs more and Dean wants him to have it.

Somehow though, John knows. And, shocking Dean more than he thought possible, he hands him the keys to the Impala just two short days before they’d decided to hop on a bus.

“Take care of her,” is all he says before he lifts the bottle to his lips, half empty; the amber liquid pouring into his mouth freely. And Dean hears what he doesn’t say this time. But it’s there, in his eyes. Always there.

_Take care of Sammy._

And Dean will. He always does.

It’s hard that first year. Sam has to live on campus and the small, efficiency apartment he’s leased for the year feels too big without Sam there to fill most of the space. But he comes when he can. On weekends. Sometimes for a night or two during the week, lugging piles of books along with him and spreading out from wall to wall it seems. Leaving the, most of the time, too large space cramped and full and fucking perfect as far as Dean’s concerned.

That’s also the Year of Jess, as Dean has come to call it. The year Dean spent terrified Sammy had found someone who wasn’t his brother to love. But no matter how much it hurts, no matter how often he thinks he’s losing Sam for good, he lets go a little bit. Releases the reins and waits. _If you love something, set it free…_ or some shit like that. So he does.

Sammy comes back. Or maybe never even leaves at all because, under the blanket of night, sweaty and sated and snugged up against his older brother’s side, Sam assures Dean that there was never a moment he even considered it. Jess is great. Smart. Funny. Hot. But she’s not Dean. And Dean, Sam promises, is all he’s ever wanted.

The second year is better. They find a bigger apartment and Dean, having worked long and hard for the year he spent mostly apart from Sam, has saved up enough money to consider opening his own shop. Sam supports him all the way. Even gets a part time job on top of his school work to help out.

But the best part is they’re together. Sam’s there, warm and solid at his side every night. They fight, like always. They fuck. They laugh. They live. And, more than anything, that’s what Dean wants for Sam. Wants him to live freely without that hunter’s expiration date hanging over his head.

They still do that sometimes too though. If they have the time and the bat signal is close enough to home, they pack up, jump in Baby, and hit the road. Easy cases mostly, a salt and burn here and there or a werewolf occasionally. Nothing too dangerous.

Dean keeps up with things though. Talks to Bobby regularly. He hears things. Something about Garth fucking up and opening some seals. Eve, whoever the fuck that is, breaking free. Fearsome creatures from purgatory being released. Something about a pit of hell opening up and swallowing a couple of angels. And who even knew angels existed? Without Sam, Dean would be right there in the midst of it. But he’s not. He lets everyone else handle it. And he takes care of Sammy. Just like he’s supposed to do.

He gets itchy sometimes, misses the open road. Misses their dad, who hasn’t contacted them since they left (but Dean feels him sometimes, right on the periphery of their lives, watching). Misses it all really. But Sam’s there. And life is good. So good.


End file.
